Ties That Bind
by Twilight016
Summary: Tom Riddle was hardly father of the year. Charlotte had always known that but it did nothing to ease her want of a relationship with him, even after years of no contact. This is a short prequel/companion piece of sorts to a longer fic I'm working on.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **AN: JKR owns all.**

Entering the small falth, Tom hastily locked the door and waved his wand to close the window. He slipped the items out of his coat pocket, briefly admiringly them before placing them in his trunk. He finally had them: Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. Now he could leave his mundane job at Borgin and Burke's and look for Ravenclaw's diadem. The ghost had told him almost the precise location of where she had dropped it. Feeling triumphant, he poured a shot of firewhiskey. That's when he saw the letter that had been shoved under his door.

Taking two long strides, he walked across the bare apartment and retrieved the letter. It was addressed to him and had come through the muggle post. Flipping it over, he saw it was from the orphanage. _Odd_ , he thought. Why would they write to him? He sat against the wall in disbelief as he read the letter. _This can't be possible_.

XXX

Lucy Ravenfeld had been a peer of Tom's at Hogwarts. They were both Slytherins and in the same year, though he had never paid much attention to her — until their sixth year. There was a lull in his research. He had traced his roots and disposed of them the previous summer. He was focused on creating seven horcruxes, but was searching for the right objects. He'd decided on using the founder's mementos. However, that had brought him right back to the genealogy section of the library.

It was Christmas break of 1942 and, as usual, he had stayed at Hogwarts. That year, she had too. She first caught his attention because it was unusual for the pureblood students in his house to stay behind. It was even more unusual for members of his house to spend their free time in the library. Some of them may have possessed mild intelligence, but most of it was devoted to scheming and creating witty retorts. Curious, he approached her.

Within a few minutes of speaking with her, he found she was more intelligent than he had initially thought. However, she wasn't anything particularly special. Sure, she was attractive with her bright blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and slight figure. But she also began acting like all the other girls the more they talked: flirty and foolish. It had not been hard to seduce her, nor had it been difficult to get rid of her. He hadn't thought of her again once classes resumed.

He was across the street from the orphanage, watching the children play in the yard. There were fewer children than when he had lived here, which made sense. The letter had said they were closing the orphanage. He wondered why Lucy hadn't tried to tell him before, but was more interested in how she had found out about this place. Tom noticed one of the smaller girls standing off to the side. She looked a little unsure of how to interact with the others, though they did not seem to be excluding her.

He wasn't sure why he'd come. He didn't care what happened to the child. He supposed he was only curious. The place hadn't changed much in the few years since he'd been gone. Everything was grey: grey buildings, grey streets, and grey fences. The play area was mostly dead grass and discarded toys. He sighed, pushing himself off the wall, deciding to get it over with. He crossed the street and noticed the small girl join the others in a game of tag.

A girl not much older than him answered the door. Her red hair was falling out of the ponytail and she looked exhausted. Her surprise at seeing him soon gave way to embarrassment over her messy appearance.

"Can I help you?" she asked, regaining some of her composure.

"I received a letter from Mrs. Cole. She asked to speak to me about a child residing here."

A look of distress passed through her eyes. "Are you Mr. Riddle?"

"Yes," he said curtly, growing more impatient by the moment.

"Mrs. Cole's just stepped out, but if you follow me I have all the paperwork she wanted you to look over."

He sighed irritably, but followed her in just the same. They walked through the small entryway and up the narrow flight of stairs. It was a familiar walk for Tom. He had been called to Cole's office more than once when he'd lived here. The girl paused to unlock the office door, stepping aside to let him in.

"All the paperwork is on the desk. You can look it over while I go fetch the girl."

He began to say that wouldn't be necessary, but she closed the door before he could get a word out. He sat in the visitor's chair and picked up the envelope labeled with his name: It was from Lucy.

 _May 19, 1948_

 _Riddle,_

 _I'm sure you have many questions, but the answers are irrelevant. Simply know that you are not the only one capable of extensive research, which is why I have left our daughter at your former "home."_

 _At some point or another, I reckon you noticed my absence from Hogwarts. Once my family found out I was pregnant, they disowned me and I was forced to leave school. While I may not have shown the best decision making skills that Christmas, I promise I am quite intelligent._

 _You see I became ill not long ago. Exiled from the magical world, I went to a muggle clinic. Their doctors told me I had cancer. I was told it could be fatal without treatment, which is expensive. I could not afford it, rent, and care for Charlotte, our daughter. I could not find a magical remedy for it either, only potions for temporary pain relief. I left Charlotte at the orphanage when I could no longer care for her._

 _Charlotte was born September 13, 1943. She is five years old. Tom, I am under no delusion that you have any interest in being a father. Therefore, I have only one thing to ask of you. I need you to find her a family that will love her. I don't care if they're muggle or magical. I know you have ways of making things happen, no questions asked. Use whatever means necessary to find her a suitable home._

 _Please take care of her and give her my love._

 _Lucy Ravenfeld_

Tom had barely finished reading when there was a quiet knock on the door. Without thinking, he said, "Enter."

"Hello, sir," a quiet voice said. Tom turned to see the young girl from the yard. Unlike most children at the orphanage, she had a neat appearance. Her dark dress and shoes, though old, were clean and her hair was combed (he suspected the girl who led him to the office had combed it before sending the girl). "Miss Wesley said you wanted to see me."

"Yes," he said hesitantly. He had never been comfortable talking to children, not even when he'd been one. "Do you know who I am?"

"Miss Wesley said your name was Mr. Riddle and you're a friend of my mum's," she said. "Have you come to take me to visit her? Usually Auntie Jane takes me to the cemetery."

"Auntie Jane?" Tom asked, confused.

"She and Mummy worked together. Are we going to see her?" The girl sounded oddly enthused about visiting a cemetery. Tom reckoned this Jane person also took her do something fun while they were out.

"Charlotte, how long have you been here?"

"I don't know," she said, trying to count on her fingers. "It feels like forever, but Mrs. Cole says it's only bee a few weeks."

"And why are you here and not with Auntie Jane?"

"She's sick too, but not the same sick as Mum."

Tom took a moment to really look at the girl. Being only five, it was difficult for him to decide who she looked like more. They had both been pale, but she did have his dark hair and features. Her long dark hair even had a slight curl to it like his did if it grew too much. Though when he looked closely, he could see a much younger version of Lucy.

"Go pack your things and meet me downstairs," he said, surprising himself. "We'll go see your mother, but you won't be coming back here."

"Where will I be going?" she asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

"You're going to live with me."

XXX

Tom stood at the end of the row of graves. She was talking rather animatedly to a plain stone plaque in the ground. He couldn't explain to himself what he was doing with the girl. His plans did not accommodate her tagging along. Besides, his enemies could try to use his daughter against him, and that would become such an annoying hindrance. But she was a part of him. And a descendent of Slytherin. He couldn't think of any kind of person who had the right to raise a descendent of Slytherin.

"Charlotte! It's time to go!" he called. He needed to get out of the country tonight. She got up immediately and waved good-bye to the headstone. _Well, at least she's obedient_ , he thought. As she walked to him, he noticed her twirling around a weed she probably thought was a flower.

 _What am I doing with a child?_

"Where are we going?" she asked, stopping next to him.

"Somewhere new," he said, picking her up. "Have you ever apparated before with your mother?"

She gave him a blank look and shook her head.

"Er, been somewhere one minute and somewhere else the next," he said, trying to simplify the concept, a task he found frustrating.

"Is that the one where there's a loud pop?"

"Yes. Did your mother travel that way with you?"

"No."

"Well, that's how we're going to travel. You'll be uncomfortable for an only moment, but there's no reason to be upset or cry about it, understand?"

"Mmhmm," she said, though she looked nervous and clung tighter to him.

Tom stiffened. He hated contact with other people. His natural instinct was to pull away, but he realized he would have to tolerate it a bit if he was going to have a child around. He turned on the spot and apparated to the small cottage in the middle of a forest in Albania. There was a village several miles away that he could go to for provisions, but far enough away that no one would bother him. The cottage and its location reminded him of the Gaunts' house; however, it was in much better condition.

He set down the girl on the living room floor. With a wave of his wand there was a fire roaring and the cottage was lit. He waved his wand again and expanded the second floor to create a bedroom and bathroom. He would replicate his bedroom furniture so that she would have somewhere to sleep in a bit. Tom figured he should feed her and explain the rules first.

"Come Charlotte," he said, setting her bag against the couch. "Let's have some dinner."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **AN: JKR owns all.**

 _Two years later_

Charlotte stumbled through the woods after her father. He went for all-day walks three or four times a week. He would take her with him from time to time, especially when the weather was nice and he was in a good a mood. He was looking for something on all these walks, but she knew better than to ask what it was. She had been admonished before for asking questions about his work.

"Stay close Charlotte," he warned. He had been inspecting the trunks of a group of trees when he noticed her wandering. She had a tendency to let her curiosity get the better of her and find trouble. He did not want to waste time chasing after her today. It was October and there were not many nice days of the year left. He would not be able to spend all day searching like this soon. The only reason he had brought Charlotte today was because she had been doing well in her studies. He had not been teaching her much, just the beginnings of mathematics, grammar, spell theories, potions, and magical history. He knew she was only seven, but he needed to keep her occupied. It wasn't as if he could have a nanny, and he didn't want her associating with the muggle children from the village.

"Yes Daddy," she said, hopping from a small boulder to a tree stump.

Charlotte enjoyed their outings in the forest. She liked discovering all the plants and trying to catch the animals. However, she often grew bored. She wished she could play with the children from the village, but her father did not like non-magical people. She was trying to convince him to let her have a dog. This was her second attempt for a pet: She had previously begged him for a pony, which he had rejected before she could get all the words out. He had not told her 'no' about a puppy, so she thought it might be a possibility.

She heard flowing water. It was loud, so she figured it must have been close. She turned and hopped down a few more boulders. She would just take a quick look; see if there were any animals by the water. The creek was located at the bottom of a small ravine, making the way her descent a slow one. Charlotte spent most of the time sliding down the banks on her butt.

Charlotte had been gone for half an hour before Tom realized she was missing. He was already angry from not locating the diadem _again_ , and now he had to go find his daughter. _We have to head back anyway_ , he thought. _It'll be dark soon_.

He yelled for Charlotte and waited for her response. After a few minutes went by and he didn't hear her, he began to panic. She normally stayed close; even on the rare occasion when she wandered away, she was never too far off. Tom was strict with her. He did not have time for a poorly behaved child. He was proud to say she was she was, usually, quite obedient. He yelled for her several more times, and felt his panic increase.

He took out his wand and cast the locator charm he had created to keep track of her. He had, essentially, tattooed a small Celtic shield knot on her right ankle that was enchanted: Once the spell was cast, the mark would attract the wand to it, and Charlotte. His wand began pointing him in her direction. Soon he heard the sound of the creek, and figured she must have gone down to it. She was in that stage where nature and animals were the most fascinating things to her.

"CHARLOTTE!" he yelled upon reaching the creek.

"Daddy!" The sound was faint, but she was near enough for her soft voice to be heard. Tom turned and began sprinting upstream. He often felt that taking the girl was one of the worst things he had ever done. She was a distraction, and—what was worse—he cared about her. Tom was thankful they were so isolated from society. No one could know about her, or else they would try to use her against him. He was still unsure if she would attend Hogwarts.

He found her about three minutes later. She was sitting on the ground, clutching her left ankle. Her face was red and streaked with tears: She had fallen and hurt herself. Her eyes were cast downward when he reached her: She knew she was in trouble. Wordlessly, he healed her ankle and picked up, balancing her on his hip as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.

"I'm sorry Daddy," she whispered.

Surprisingly, his anger dissipated and he felt relief flood his body. "I've told you not to run off," he said sternly.

"I know," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to go so far."

"Do you understand why I don't want you to do that?"

"Because it's not safe?" she offered.

"Because there are people who would hurt you to get to me, and we can't let that happen. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said, nodding her head. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and felt her relax.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No," he sighed.

"Will you go out tomorrow?"

"No, maybe the next day." Normally, he would have told her not to ask questions about his work, but for once she was not trying to figure out the specifics.

"Will you still take me out with you?"

"If you're good," he said. He believed she had to earn the things she wanted, and she was going to have to earn going out with him after wandering off today.

"Ok," she said, happy it was not a 'no.'

XXX

It was barely sunrise, but Tom had already started his day. He figured he would get some mapping done before Charlotte got up for the day. It was Christmas morning and he would be spending the majority of the day with her. They would spend the day playing with the few toys he had gotten her and in the snow. Christmas and her birthday were the two days he took off from his search.

He was always up this early. It was easier to get work done when Charlotte slept. As he sipped his tea, something moved out of the corner of his eye. He glanced out the window and saw two unicorns standing just in front of the cottage. It was a mother, whose white coat made the snow look grey, and her foal. Tom set down his mug, and went to wake Charlotte. Her room was upstairs, just across the way from his study. It wasn't much of a room. There was only space for a bed and dresser. He actually had to duck a bit to get to her bed.

"Charlotte, wake up," he said, shaking her gently. "Charlotte."

She stirred and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "What is it, Daddy?" she mumbled, turning over to look at him.

"Come downstairs, I think there's something you'd like to see."

"'kay. Carry me?"

He nodded and picked her up, even though he thought she was getting too old to be carried. She snuggled into him, laying her head under his neck and grabbing onto the front of his shirt. He tightened his grip, not in loving way he told himself; it was just to get a better hold on her as he walked down the stairs. He took her to the kitchen window, shifting her a little so she could get a better view.

"Look," he said. "Do you see them?"

She lifted her head, and lit up as soon as she saw the unicorns.

"Would you like to go see them?"

"Can I?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes," he said, setting her on the ground. "Go put on your shoes and cloak."

She ran to the coat closet, excitement etched in her features. Tom moved to the cupboard and pulled out a bowl and a box of sugar cubes. After pouring some in a bowl, he walked over to Charlotte, who was jumping excitedly in front of the door.

"Here," he said, handing her the bowl of sugar cubes. "If they come to you, you can feed them. Remember to approach them slowly and quietly."

"Yes, Daddy."

He opened the door and they stepped outside, the unicorns turning in their direction as they did. Tom gave Charlotte an encouraging nudge. She took about fifteen steps toward the unicorns and stopped to look back at Tom.

"You're all right," he said quietly. He stayed by the door, knowing that unicorns were more wary of men. He wasn't worried about anything happening to Charlotte. Unicorns were gentle unless startled or threatened. Besides, he had his wand on hand, just in case.

The adult unicorn had taken an interest in the small human and was walking toward Charlotte, the baby trailing a few steps behind its mother. She stopped about a foot away. He watched as Charlotte took a sugar cube out of the bowl and held it out to the unicorn. The unicorn only hesitated a moment before accepting the sweet treat. Charlotte smiled and took another cube out of the bowl. The foal, seeing that the girl was not a threat, swooped in and stole the second cube before its mother could. The unicorns allowed Charlotte to pet them while they ate. They were out there for about fifteen minutes before Tom called Charlotte back inside. The cold was starting to get to him and he figured she had been out in it long enough, especially without a hat, gloves or scarf. She skipped happily over to him.

"Did you see how pretty they were?" she asked, as he let them inside.

"Yes," he said, helping her out of her cloak and taking the bowl from her. "Go get a blanket and sit in front of the fire. I'll let you eat your breakfast in the living room and you can open presents."

"Okay!" she said, kicking off her shoes. He walked into the kitchen and set the bowl on the counter. He then waved his wand causing the kitchen to spring to life and prepare breakfast. He checked to make sure she was sitting in the living room. When he saw her on the couch wrapped in a blanket, he went pack into the kitchen to retrieve her present. He had hidden it in one of the lower cupboards the night before. Tom had never understood the need to have a pet, but had decided to get Charlotte one so she would have something to keep her busy. It wasn't a dog, but he reckoned she'd be happy anyway. He carefully lifted the package, making sure the loose flaps didn't open, and walked to the living room.

"All right, Charlotte," he said, placing the box in her lap. "Here's what you call your "fun" present."

She giggled. "Can I open it?"

He nodded and watched her pull back two of the loose flaps. A tiny, furry, grey head popped up, and Charlotte practically squealed. She picked up the tiny kitten from the box, saying thank you over and over again as she did. He smiled, unable to repress it.

"You're welcome," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"What's its name? Is it a boy or girl?" she asked excitedly.

"It's a boy, and you get to name him," he explained. "You are also responsible for caring for him."

"Hmm. He's gotta have a good name, Dad," she said so seriously that Tom struggled not to laugh. "I'm going to need to think about it."

"Okay. Well, I'm going to go check on your breakfast," he said, matching her serious tone. She nodded and pet the kitten while contemplating what to name it. He continued grinning as he walked back to the kitchen.

It was probably Tom's most enjoyable Christmas. Charlotte played with the kitten for most of the day, taking her time to open her other presents, which were mostly books. She had him read one of her fun books to her. Again, he thought such books were a waste of time, but figured she needed a few to keep her busy. One here or there wouldn't destroy her intelligence. He did a bit of reading himself, but the majority of the day went to entertaining his daughter.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" he asked as he tucked her into the bed. The kitten was curled up on the corner of her pillow, purring happily.

"Yes. It's Shadow."

"And why did you choose that name?"

"It was a name of one of the characters in my book and I liked it," she said, stifling a yawn. "Thank you, Daddy."

"For what?"

"For the best Christmas," she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"You're welcome," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"I love you."

"Goodnight, Charlotte."

Tom sighed as he shut her bedroom door. It may have been one their best Christmases, but it was also one of their last. He had decided to let her go to Hogwarts, and to do that he could not let anyone know she was his daughter. However, that meant he had to send her to live with someone else. She would not be happy, but it was for the best. She would be happier, and safer, if she were with other people. Part of him hated himself for what he was planning, but his ambitions won out. This was the way it had to be, for them both.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **AN: JKR owns all.**

 _Two years later_

It had been five days since her father had left her at her grandparents. He said she would be staying three days because her grandparents wanted to get to know her. However, she only saw them a few times a day and they didn't talk much to her on the rare occasions they all interacted. She had spent the last few days being chauffeured to different play dates with their friends' children and grandchildren.

She was sitting in the window seat of what had once been her mother's playroom. Absently-mindedly petting Shadow, she stared out onto the gravel pathway and waited for her father to appear. Impatient, Charlotte wondered where her father was. It was not like him to be late. After an hour had gone by, she cradled Shadow in her arms, deciding to find her grandmother and ask about her father.

Like many of the other houses she had visited in the last few days, her grandparents' house was huge. There were many more rooms than people in the house and it seemed to echo no matter where she was. It was always dimly lit, even during the day when the windows were open. She figured it must have been a spell, though she didn't understand why anyone would to keep their home this dark. She found her grandmother in the parlor, tea tray next to her as she flipped through a magazine.

"What?" she snapped, noticing Charlotte standing in the doorway.

"Father's late. Do you think we should look for him?" she asked, working to keep the nervousness out of her voice. Both her grandparents were intimidating.

"He's not late. He's not coming," she said, turning back to her magazine.

"What do you mean?" Charlotte asked. She felt her stomach clench though she was not sure why. She just knew she was about to hear something bad. "Did something happen?"

"No. Your father decided you would live here now, and then attend Hogwarts in a few years. He believes the experiences we can give you will be invaluable."

"Is he coming back?"

"Not any time soon."

"B-but he didn't say good-bye," Charlotte said, her voice breaking and tears falling. Her grandmother's façade broke and she got up to comfort her granddaughter. She removed the cat from Charlotte's arms and sat Charlotte on the couch next to her.

"It's going to be all right," she said, petting her hair. "It's better this way, I promise. You're going to be fine."

"W-why di-did he leave me?" Charlotte half-asked, half-sobbed.

"Because," her grandmother started and then sighed. "Because his priorities are a mess. I should know. Mine were too, but I'll do better with you."

Charlotte had no idea what her grandmother was talking about. But she did notice a change in her grandmother's behavior toward her over the next few days. Her grandfather remained cold and distant, but Charlotte learned to ignore him. He only came out of his study at meal times anyway. She was still upset about her father, but her grandmother kept her busy.

She spent a lot of time with the grandchildren of her grandmother's friends. By the time Charlotte went to Hogwarts, she had a handful of good friends. She was sorted into Ravenclaw, which made her grandmother proud. Charlotte was just glad to have some distance between her and her father — not that anyone would have connected to him to her. They'd legally changed her last from Riddle to Ravenfeld before she started school. Her absence was explained by a lie, of course. They said her mother had married a foreigner and they had disappeared to somewhere in Italy. Her father had raised her after Lucy died but also became sick and could no longer care for her; so he sent her to live with them.

She was fine with lying when necessary; she was even good at it. But, sometimes, it bothered her how much she had to lie about who she was; though she knew it was necessary. She liked her life now. She didn't want to lose it. Charlotte couldn't pretend she didn't miss her father and the cottage, or that his silence didn't hurt.

As she got older her pain turned into resentment and hate. It only increased when she found a letter from her mother to her father. She had been snooping in her grandmother's desk, looking for some extra money to buy new dress robes. She wasn't sure why he had kept or given it to her grandmother, but the contents made her furious. Her mother hadn't wanted him to keep her. She wanted him to find Charlotte a home, a permanent home. So why hadn't he? Why keep her only to give her away in the end?

Charlotte did not see her father again until she was seventeen. It was the middle of her seventh year and she was home for Christmas. Her grandfather had passed when she was twelve, so it was only Charlotte and her grandmother now. She had just returned from a friend's Christmas party. She brushed off the Floo powder from her clothes as she walked toward the parlor where she knew her grandmother was waiting for her.

"Sorry I'm a little late," she said as entered the parlor. "I didn't realize the —"

She stopped midsentence when she saw the hooded figure sitting on the couch and holding one of her grandmother's rose-patterned china teacups. His hands were eerily pale and she could swear something red was shinning from under his hood. Her grandmother was sitting stiffly in her favorite armchair. She was trying to stay composed, but Charlotte could see the fear in her eyes.

"Er, sorry. I didn't realize you had company," Charlotte said, taking a step back.

"Nonsense, please join us," the man said, motioning to the armchair opposite him. She looked at her grandmother, who nodded that she should comply. She moved to take her seat, glad she had her wand on her.

"Your grandmother's been telling me about your academic and social successes. I'm very pleased to hear it. I was worried for nothing."

"Why would anything I do concern you?" she asked, not caring that she was being rude.

"Why wouldn't a father be concerned about his daughter?" He lowered his hood as he spoke, reveling a twisted version of her father's face. Startled, she jumped up, which caused the chair to scoot back up a few inches.

"Who are you?" she demanded, refusing to believe the truth. She could lie to herself. She lied to everyone else.

"I'm your father, Charlotte," he said, standing up. "You know that."

"I don't have a father! He's dead!" she snapped.

"I don't have time for your teenage angst, child. We have work to do," he said, unaffected by her anger.

"No, we don't have anything to do. I don't want anything to do with you!"

"That is not how you speak to me," he hissed, his tone turned threatening. "You should listen to what I have to say. I'll only offer this once."

"I don't want anything from you. And I don't want to be a part of your uprising." She felt herself becoming more angry and frustrated by the second. He had no right to be here, to intrude upon her life now.

"So you are more intelligent than you're acting." 

"I remember what those people called you. There are all kinds of rumors going around. I'm not stupid!"

"Charlotte," her grandmother said, her voice trembling. "Perhaps you should sit down, and listen to what your father has to say."

"What?" Charlotte turned to her in disbelief. "How can you even suggest that?! He abandoned me and ignored me for eight years! I have a life and he's not a part of it!" She was screaming, tears streaking down her face. She turned back to Tom, looking him straight in red-glowing eyes. "Just leave me alone!"

She turned to leave, to run away, but felt herself pulled back by her upper arm. Tom spun her around and pushed her onto the couch, raising his wand in the process.

"That's enough!" her grandmother shouted. The fear was gone from her voice and eyes. Seeing Charlotte in danger had provoked her protective nature. She may look old and frail, but Charlotte's grandmother was still a fearsome force to reckon with. She stood up and moved to stand between them. "You two need some time to cool down. We will all go to bed, and resume this conversation in the morning."

"You presume to tell me —"

"I presume nothing. This is my house and I will not have you harm my granddaughter anymore. You've done enough damage as it is."

Charlotte and Tom remained silent, glaring at each other. Charlotte was the first to break with a grumbled "fine." She stomped off to her room, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She threw herself to her bed and let the tears fall. Why did he have to come back now? Everything in her life was going so well. Hell, she was getting married in August. Some people, mostly the halfbloods and muggleborns, thought it was a bit odd because she was so young, but it was still quite common among the Pureblood families.

Benjamin Thorn was from a very old, very rich Pureblood family. The marriage was arranged, but Charlotte had spent some time with him. He was kind and smart (of course), though maybe a bit arrogant at times — most people from Pureblood families were. He was quiet. Charlotte was not sure if that was his nature, or he was just shy around her, but he had not spoken a lot to her.

She supposed what had endeared him most to her was when she saw him stand up against a seventh-year Slytherin who had been jinxing some first year Hufflepuffs. She was so used to everyone minding their own business and looking out for themselves that his actions had shocked. Alistair McNair was one of the nastiest people she had ever met. He went around hexing and cursing almost anyone and anything. Merlin forbid you let your pet roam about. How he had not been expelled amazed her. His father must have been donating a lot of money to the school. Regardless, Ben standing up to him had been quite remarkable. Sure, he had ended up with a bloody nose, but she was still impressed.

Sighing, Charlotte pushed herself off her door, which she had been leaning against, and began getting ready for bed. As she crawled under the blankets, she hoped her father would be gone in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **AN: JKR owns all.**

Tom had not counted on Charlotte being so angry, though in retrospect he should have expected it. He knew she a temper, much like himself, and if he had taught her one thing, it was how to hold a grudge. A humorless laugh escaped him. She was his child. No matter, he would talk to her in the morning. She was old enough now to know the truth, to understand it. He was confident he could use her anger to his advantage.

Charlotte lay in bed the next morning, listening to the rain hit the window. She stayed in bed for a half hour before forcing herself to get up. She grabbed her robe from the back her desk chair. Her grandmother preferred for her be dressed for the day before breakfast, but she felt like she deserved a break today. It was a bit odd, actually, that her grandmother had not come to get her yet. It was past ten in the morning; Grandmother never let her sleep this late.

As she descended the stairs, she noticed the mansion was unusually cold. It was fairly drafty in the winter, but it had never been this bad before. When she reached the main level, she saw none of the fires had been started. She felt a chill run through her that had nothing to do with the cold: Something was wrong. She wished she grabbed her wand from her nightstand. She could go back upstairs that would be the sane thing to do. She made to turn around, but stopped halfway when she heard a series of hissing sounds come from the dining room.

She knew what those sounds meant. It may have been a few years, but she could understand them. More importantly, she knew her father had done something. She remembered that he had a habit of slipping into Parseltongue whenever he planning. When she was little, she used to think it was for something good because of how pleased he would be. She knew better now. She'd heard whispers of her father's movements over the years, despite her grandmother's attempt to shield her from them. But Charlotte had heard of the disappearances, unsolvable murders (at least by muggle law enforcement), and strange floating, green skulls.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the dining room. She wanted to believe he wouldn't hurt her, but she couldn't. The man from her memories didn't exist, and she needed to remember that.

She stopped inside the doorway of the dining room. The curtains were pulled aside, letting in the natural light. The room felt colder than hallway. She glanced at fireplace and noticed it was empty. A small movement caught her eye. When she saw what it was, she had to stop herself from stepping away. On the dining table, a large snake was curled in on itself, probably trying to keep warm. The thing hissed angrily at her, causing a low chuckle to erupt from behind it. 

She didn't know how she had not seen him before. Her father sat at the head of the table, staring at her expectantly. Only he did not look like her father. He still had the dark hair; though it seemed to be thinning and flecks of grey were visible. If it was possible, he was thinner than before and his face was…snakelike. His nose was flatter and his eyes were red and appeared to be more reptile than human in shape. He was smirking, meaning he was pleased. And that was the scariest part because she had no idea why.

"What have you done?" she asked, the evenness of her voice surprising her.

"This?" he said, gesturing to his face. "Just a side effect of my growing power."

"That's not what I meant. What did you do?" she asked again, the feeling of dread growing.

"Your grandmother defied my orders. Her failure made her useless."

"Say what you did!" she said through gritted teeth. Her eyes were watering and she was fighting to keep back the tears, knowing they'd only egg him on.

"I didn't do anything," he said, clearly bored. "She's simply sleeping."

"I don't believe you," Charlotte spat.

"You used to. I suppose this your grandmother's influence?"

"What if it is?" she snapped

"I see allowing you to go to Hogwarts was a mistake," his tone was calm, but she heard the danger.

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose if you wanted me to be a mindless drone, then, yes, sending me to Hogwarts was a mistake," she said. She saw his fists clench and knew she should stop, but making him angry and trying to hurt him were much more appealing at the moment.

"He knows, you know."

Curiosity briefly flitted across Tom's face and he relaxed his fists slightly.

"Dumbledore knows you're my father. I think he suspected when I started there, something about me must have been too similar. He kept a close eye on me, but he never said anything…until you showed up and asked for teaching position. I was called to his office the very next day. He was kind, asked me how classes were, and how my grandmother was doing. Then, he told me that Tom Riddle had been there the previous night, asking for a job. He knew, but my silence and lack of confusion at the mention of Tom Riddle — who no one seems to remember — confirmed it."

"I told you to never —"

"He's done nothing, told no one. He hasn't asked for information. He simply said he was sorry, and I know he meant he was sorry I was stuck with you for a parent. Because what kind of parent abandons their child, travels all the way to their school, but doesn't bother to see them?!"

"Are you finished?" he hissed, getting to his feet.

 _No,_ she thought, but fell silent anyway. He stalked around the table, slowly making his way toward her. He didn't say anything, even when he stopped a few feet in front of her. He simply stood in front of her, glaring. She reckoned he was trying to intimidate her, but she was too angry. The silence between them lasted several minutes. Charlotte began to calm down, which was stupid since her father could still torture or kill her.

"I would not do either of those things to you, Charlotte," he said, his voice softer than she would have ever expected.

"Stay out of my head," she said, folding her arms in front her, her anger returning.

"You should be practicing your occlumency. I wouldn't be able to access your mind so easily if you were," he chastised.

"Why are you here?" she asked, ignoring the reprimand.

"Your grandmother tells me you've done very well in your studies, not that I'd expect anything less," he added. "She also says you'll be married this summer after you finish school."

"Like a proper Pureblood," she deadpanned.

"Not entirely," he said, sitting down across from her. "A proper Pureblood wouldn't sit passively by while mudbloods taint our bloodlines and force us to live in secrecy."

"There it is," she muttered. "So what should I be doing? Killing my schoolmates between classes?"

"You shouldn't be wasting time on wedding plans," he continued, ignoring her comment. "You should be figuring out who among your connections, and those of your _fiancé_ , are willing to support the cause."

"I see," she said, working to hide her disappointment. "That's why you've come? You want me to recruit young witches and wizards to your campaign."

She was so stupid. Despite all her anger, a tiny part of Charlotte had hoped he was here to see her. But no, she was just another pawn he could use. The only thing that mattered to him was his mission to eradicate all non-Purebloods and rule over the muggles. Her father's ideology was nothing she hadn't heard. Several of her peers, those in Slytherin and other houses, shared it. In fact, she could probably bring about twenty people to her father's cause with little to no effort.

If only she was interested in helping.

"I can't recruit people for you," she said, working to keep her expression and tone neutral. "There's the wedding and my N.E.W.T.'s exams, plus there's no way I could manage this under Dumbledore's nose. He would find out and I could be expelled."

"I managed to find and open the Chamber of Secrets without him figuring it out," Voldemort countered. "I reckon, with some discretion, you would be able to find a few trustworthy students."

"Surely you remember how the gossip is at Hogwarts. I would be questioned if even a whisper reached Dumbledore, and you've just seen how bad I am with occlumency. Best for you if I don't get involved," she added, feigning concern.

"Charlotte," he started, scrutinizing her as he spoke. "Are you refusing to help me out of some teenage rebellion? Or are you refusing to help because you don't believe in my efforts?"

She broke eye contact. Honestly, she had never truly considered her feelings on the matter. Thanks to both her father and grandmother, Charlotte knew she could act as if she were superior to others from time to time. However, that didn't mean she thought the muggleborns should be kept from magic or the muggles needed to be ruled. She certainly didn't think anyone deserved to die because of their blood status.

"This is your only opportunity to join me," Voldemort warned, growing impatient.

Charlotte bit her lip, hesitating. She knew her answer, and knew what it would cost her. But was she really losing anything? Meeting her father's gaze, she said, "I won't help you."

Rage momentarily flashed across his face before he composed himself. He called the snake over to him and stood up with it draped over his shoulders.

"I'll respect your choice," he said coldly, pausing on his way out of the room. "But from now on, you are not my daughter."

"Was I ever?" she whispered to herself as she listened to his footsteps echoing down the hallway. There was a tight knot in her stomach that she tried to ignore. She knew she had chosen to remove any chance of a relationship with her father. Would he retaliate in some way? Come after her? Her grandmother? Her friends? Ben? Or would he ignore her, as he had for the last several years?"

"Merlin's beard, it's cold in here," her grandmother said, pulling her dressing robe tighter around her as she entered the dining room. "Is _he_ gone?"

"Yes," Charlotte said, sounding calmer than she felt. "I don't think we'll be seeing him again."

"Good," her grandmother said smugly. "He may be your father, but I've never liked him."

"Well, then let's forget all about him," Charlotte said, an unnatural perkiness in her voice and manner. She stood up and looped arms with her grandmother. "What should we have for breakfast?"

Ben and Charlotte were married the August following their graduation of Hogwarts. Ben went on to work at the Ministry, as did Charlotte for while. She left when they had their first child, Cecil, and remained at home to care of Cecil and the three children that followed: Benjamin Jr., Thomas, and Lilith. In addition to raising four children, Charlotte was involved in numerous charity and community groups — a handful of which were devoted to helping victims of a mysterious yet growing group of violent wizards known as the Death Eaters. They were the picture of a healthy family: loving, devoted parents with children who got along — for the most part — and did well in school.

Their lives did not remain picture-perfect, however. Charlotte lost both Cecil and Tom to Death Eaters. Unable to sit by, both had joined the effort to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Ben Sr. died of a heart attack not long after their deaths. Blinded by rage and grief, Charlotte alienated both of her remaining children and missed the signs that her youngest, Lilith, sympathized with Voldemort's movement. Too late, Charlotte realized Lilith had, most likely, joined the very group that had killed two of her siblings.

Eventually, Charlotte repaired her relationship with Ben Jr. and his wife, Prudence. Lilith, however, did not reappear in their lives until after the Potter boy defeated Voldemort. She showed up with a baby girl and claiming to have been widowed recently. Having no proof of her involvement with the Death Eaters, Charlotte and her son decided to let the past be and welcome Lilith and the girl, Anya, into their lives.

After all, family sticks together.


End file.
